The Market of Zagreb ...

Recently I found myself in Zagreb, the capital of Croatia. It’s a beautiful city, wonderful old buildings, a bit falling down but charming and strong reminders of the Empire during which it was built, the remainders of which echo yet in its side streets. This city seems somehow to bridge the East and the West and the Balkans of mind and heart. On Sunday morning the central square was filled with farmers, dozens of stalls stocked with fresh fruits and vegetables and to one side the cheese mongers set off by themselves, with their hand-made cheeses, wrapped in sharp white cheese cloth, the attendant grandmothers on short stubby stools waiting for customers but patiently so, unlike the fruit vendors who searched the market with their eyes for business, these older ones sat patiently and tended their cheeses, not unlike one might tend a sensitive beast. The cheeses were for the most part white and simple, from the goat and tasted of the barnyard, yet wonderfully so, savory cheese it was, genuine and robust and so much so that one could almost imagine it squeezed fresh from the teat. Maybe it was just the scene, the aroma of the marketplace or the solid pose of the mistress of the cheese, immovable she seemed, a part of the place – inexorable.